


Destiny, Without Chicken

by ficcety



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-17
Updated: 2013-01-17
Packaged: 2017-11-25 20:44:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/642792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ficcety/pseuds/ficcety
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Musings about being the destiny's bitch. Merlin's pov.</p>
<p>Spoilers for the whole show.<br/>Gen, but might contain some Merthur-shippery bits, if you were inclined to interpret them like that. ^^</p>
            </blockquote>





	Destiny, Without Chicken

**Author's Note:**

> Just something I wrote to get out some feels after finishing the finale. In other words, this was written in about an hour and a half in a dark room, while cuddling in blankets and listening to Merlin soundtracks on repeat. It's about as uplifting as you would expect.

He'd been so young and naive when he first came to Camelot. He'd thought he was much older in experience than years after all the time spent hiding in plain sight in Ealdor. He hadn't realised how alone he would be, without his mother, Will and the villagers he'd known since birth. Gaius fast became not only his mentor but his confidante, a fatherly figure who was much more helpful than the enigmatic lizard in the cave underground. And then there was Arthur, the annoying prat with more potential than he knew what to do with, and a greater sense of honour and loyalty than anyone gave him credit for. His destiny, the boy who tried to behead him with a mace. However much he tried to keep a distance, to concentrate on his duty without letting personal feelings cloud his judgment or stall his hand, Arthur would not allow it. The arrogant prince shone too brightly, fought too hard and tried endlessly to improve not only himself but the lives of his people. At first glance he might have only seen Arthur as the spoiled heir, but within the surface was a man with a good heart, a warrior looking for a cause to fight for. Merlin was there to be the force nudging the future High King of Albion in the right direction, while at the same time making sure the king-to-be lived long enough to fulfill his own destiny. Even without all the assassination attempts, Arthur was as pig-headed as he was brave, and neither quality made Merlin's task lighter. Luckily after a while he had help from an unlikely source, as the prince fell suddenly for Guinevere, someone who as a servant of the royal household had knowledge of court etiquette and politics, as a smith's daughter knew battle and weapons, and had more insight into the lives of Arthur's subjects than Arthur himself ever could. Her level-headedness and kindness drew the prince's attention and provided Merlin with an important ally, although he never dared to reveal his secrets to her. At least, not all of them.

  
Even so Merlin felt his destiny weigh on him with every breath he took. When the dragon and King Uther had together tied Merlin to Arthur's service, the greatest problem the young warlock saw was being straddled with such an egotistic royal clotpole, but he soon learned how wrong he was. All the secrets he had to keep, all the lives he had to take or ruin, all the decisions that became his daily burden made his youth disappear in guilt and chaos. And of all the mistakes he made, perhaps the worst of them was Morgana. He thought of it for years, for centuries, but it was too late to change the outcome. If he had told her of his magic, given her guidance and a purpose greater than that which Morgause offered, if he had not betrayed her and let her fall into enemy hands, would it have prevented what happened? Could all those lives have been saved were the pain of rejection and deception soothed into a sibling bond stronger than Uther's sense of propriety? And with all that, would Camelot have regained its magic and ended Merlin's need for secrecy along with the suffering of the magical peoples of the realm? Or would it have resulted in something worse? Did his actions even have any effect in the first place, or was it all just an inevitable game preordained by destiny? Merlin had no way of knowing the answers, so he carried the guilt around his shoulders like a wellworn cape. A cape embroidered with names of the long dead.

  
In the centre of it all, however, was Arthur. What at first seemed like a chore became a labour of love. He never would have imagined the prince would become his friend, the most important person in his existence, the reason to draw breath and wield magic. All those difficult desicions and lives he had to take were for Arthur, and that made it easier. Nothing mattered but Arthur. Even his destiny and the fate of the kingdoms did not mean as much to Merlin as the man he had lost his first love, his father, his best friend and his innocence for. It was not that Merlin worshipped his king or thought him to be infallible and perfect; quite the contrary, Merlin was always the first, and quite often the only one, to point out his master's many faults. What Arthur was to Merlin he could not describe. His friend, master, king, destiny. Arthur was simply everything, the most important piece of the puzzle, the sun at the centre of the solar system.

  
In the end, destiny betrayed Merlin like he had betrayed so many friends in destiny's name. Arthur was taken from him, his one purpose extinguished after years of battling for his life. The loss was only made bearable by the promise of Arthur's return and the moments they shared on the way to Avalon. Even so, he was beginning to feel the loneliness. All of his closest friends were gone, Lancelot and Gwaine among them. There was nothing for him in Camelot anymore, except for duty to Arthur's kingdom and queen, as well as one of his few surviving friends. Gwen made an excellent ruler and her kingdom prospered. But in a few measly decades Merlin found himself to be utterly, desolately alone, with no family or friends left, and no sign of Arthur's return.

  
Merlin did the best he could, honed his skills as the world around him kept changing and magic slowly withdrew from people back into the land to bide its time. As the magic in others weakened, Merlin's only strengthened with practice. He also did his best to keep up with new knowledge, ideas and inventions to be of use to the Once and Future King when his slumber ended, as well as to keep himself entertained and moderately sane. Merlin rarely made friends anymore, since he had learned the painful way that everyone he ever cared about was doomed to wither away before his eyes, whether it took decades or much less. Sometimes, when he was feeling particularly melancholy, Merlin let himself wonder if he would only get Arthur back to lose him again, this time without even the promise of his return. Would Merlin live on past the sun's explosion with no hope of companionship or a proper life? Whenever these thoughts caught up with him, it would take him days to even convince himself to leave the bed again, as the enormity of eternity crushed his will with its weight. He heard so many tales of people searching for eternal life and sometimes laughed bitterly at their idiocy.

  
Even through his guilt and depression Merlin could always feel the tiny thread of hope telling him it would be worth it and the wait would end. Merlin could never return to what he thought of as his first life, the one in Ealdor and Camelot with his family and friends, so he kept moving forward. At the centre of himself he could feel the tug of destiny, the knowledge that his friend was stirring, his master awakening, his king returning and their destiny unfolding. Throughout the centuries the feeling grew stronger and his step steadier. Merlin had no way of knowing in what form his king would be returned to him, but there was one thing he was certain of: the prat would be absolutely insufferable.


End file.
